


Embrace the Void

by ThePineCat



Series: Voidwalker Rising [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Death, Flashback, Mild panic, Origin Story, Slight Violence, The Reef, ghost and guardian friendship, ghost is adorable and protective, mild swearing, someone forgot to tell her that she’s immortal, uldren is a jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-05 17:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15868671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePineCat/pseuds/ThePineCat
Summary: A curious ghost finds its way to the reef shortly after the Gap. There, far far away from the city, a new guardian is born.





	1. Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh I don’t know what I’m doing.
> 
> This is the origin story for my warlock, who I’ve had since the beginning. We’ll see how far this goes.

Escape. Must escape. Fallen, everywhere. Screams ringing through the station. Dark, garbled voices. Humming of the escape ship coming to life beneath her shaking hands. Almost there. Close, so close. 

The last thing heard is the alarm blaring, warning, warning her of imminent danger. And then she is shot down.

——

The first thing heard is the gasping of a woman, growing louder and sharper as panic sets in.

And then, a voice, different in some way that she does not know. Still, its tone is reassuring, comforting, although it does little to change anything.

It is then that she realizes that it is  _ she  _ who is gasping, who is  _ alive _ . Open fly her eyes, wide and unfocused and green, green, green like cold cold malachite. They stare back at her in the form of reflections off of the broken glass of the ship’s windshield. With no barrier, the force of space should be pulling at her. She should be dead, dead, dead, like the others—fallen, everywhere, screams all around her, and—

“Calm down, calm down! It’ll be okay, I promise!”

There is the voice again, along with an insistent prodding at her cheek. On instinct, a hand moves to swat this  _ thing  _ way, but she only makes contact with a cold cheek dampened with tears. The voice has moved to her other side now as she wipes away at her eyes. 

“Please don’t try to hit me again, I’m only trying to help!” Slowly, her vision clears and a glow of blue set in a halo of white pyramids comes into focus. It’s spines twirl as if to wave hello, and she finds herself calming, if only slightly. Her breathing slows, but her hands still shake and her mouth remains open, as if it is still difficult to take in the oxygen that she no longer needs.

“Good good, you’ve calmed down. I’m sure you’re confused, but it’ll all make sense soon enough. Just give me a moment and I’ll see if I can get this ship working.” A flash of light, and it is gone. Left in its wake is a fine blue dust of glimmering motes. Entranced, she reaches a hand forward to touch, only to have the shimmer absorbed into her skin with a tiny rush of energy. Waves of light ripple from the point of contact, traveling further up her arm until they disappear beneath her tattered sleeves. Nothing is new about the swirling patterns of her skin, but the way they reacted to the glittering particles… it is fascinating. Even more interesting is the power that it gave her, and that still remains inside of her. Curious, she closes her eyes and looks inward, searching for this new energy. Finally, she finds it and latches on, pulling from it and forcing it through to her right hand. A slow breath in, to steady herself, and she opens her eyes to see what she has done.

Cradled in the loose grasp of her fingers, a vortex of darkness swirls, not unlike the depths of space around her. Yet, this void does not beseech death and shadow. Instead, it radiates light and energy and  _ hope _ . Despite its cold, her palm is warm and tingling as she stares intently at this tiny sphere of purple-

“I’ve done all I can, but—oh! You’ve figured out your light! And it’s void! A good choice, if I do say so myself.” It is back again, the little light with the soothing male voice. Briefly, she wonders what  _ choice _ it could be talking about, when she realizes that she too could speak.

“...ahh,” is all that comes out. Her throat is dry and rough, only capable of producing a faint rasp. 

“Oh, looks like I missed a spot!” A twirl and a soft beam of blue comes from the eye of the light, and cool relief washes over her throat.

“Sorry, I’m new at this. I’m a ghost by the way,  _ your _ ghost, actually,” The thing— no, the  _ ghost _ — gestures towards her, “and  _ you’re  _ my guardian.” A what? She should know what this means, yet she doesn’t. Somehow, this feels unfamiliar. She’s the kind of person who just  _ knows _ things, so why doesn’t she understand anything? Confusion must have shown on her face, for the ghost spoke up again,

“Oh, yeah. You don’t know what’s going on. Well, you’re dead. Or at least you were until I came along. You have been chosen by the traveler to wield its light in defense of humanity and the last city of earth. And I am here to help you with that.” Vaguely, she understood what it meant. Some part of her recognized the things it said— the traveler, the light,  _ humanity _ . Wait. A glance in the jagged glass proves her thoughts.

“But I’m not human.” 

“The traveler doesn’t discriminate. Now, we should really get going. Unless you  _ want  _ to keep floating in the empty vacuum of space.” A glare directed at the ghost, and it continued, “Well, we won’t be able to make it to the city in this ship, but we should be able to get to the Reef. Hopefully the Queen won’t mind lending us some help.” After a moment of silence, the ghost sighed and rolled its eye.

“Right, well. I think it’s this way.” 

——

“Halt, you are in the Reef’s airspace.” A voice crackled over the damaged speaker of the ship. With a flash, the ghost appeared at her side and they slowed to a stop. On her left, another ship appeared. It looked somewhat odd with its three points, but she imagined hers was the same.

“Now let’s see,” a pause, as the stranger investigated the side of her ship. 

“A survivor from Amethyst? But how?!” Disbelief colored the newcomer’s voice, yet she did not understand why. What terrible thing had happened at Amethyst to warrant no survivors? 

“The Queen will want to hear your story. Follow me.” A crackle indicates the closing of their comm link, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Ghost… what happened at Amethyst? What happened to  _ me _ ?”

And so her ghost told her how the Amethyst space station, an Awoken colony, was attacked by Fallen from the house of Wolves. Everyone there was slaughtered, their homes burnt to ashes. She had been no exception, and had lain dead in her destroyed ship, floating off into the reef until her ghost brought her back to life. She should have been shocked, horrified that so many had been slain so easily. Yet, she did not react. It sounded like a story— distant, and far away. She did not know those people, and although their deaths were sad, she could not find it in herself to grieve. The past was the past, and whatever was part of her old life was not a part of her now.


	2. and Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it looks like this is going to be three chapters instead of two; I may or may not have gotten slightly carried away here. 
> 
> Also, if there’s any confusion regarding the timeline or the events that are mentioned, I’ve tried to clarify in the notes at the end.

The vestian outpost was… strange, to say the least. Open to the wreckage of the reef and the emptiness of the space beyond. What could easily have been an abandoned station was instead sparsely populated; guards in sleek armor patrolled around the area, small sidearms holstered at their sides; not unlike the pilot who now walked at her back, stern and cold with their expressionless masks. They passed an empty station to the left; something inside her said that this was wrong, that someone should be there. 

“It’s a shame about what happened to Petra. We never should have tried to help that cursed city.” The unnamed pilot spoke comfortably to her; he had no qualms about sharing his thoughts. She was seen as one of them, although she had no memory of the awoken or her place in their society.

_He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about!_ Her ghost exclaimed through their mental link, _That women killed nine of us! Accident or not, she deserved what she got._

Truly, this man must be daft. How had he not realized that her ship was open to the elements, that she had breathed in the atmosphere of space— something that no awoken was capable of doing. Nor had he seen the shimmer left behind by her ghost as it disappeared into some unknown pocket of space. She was not as familiar to them as he may think, but it did not matter. They needed to see the Queen anyway, and this brainless man was taking them straight to her. He was in for a surprise, that was for sure.

——

_You should probably bow,_ her ghost stated as they approached a grand throne, guarded by two Eliksni whose gazes sent shivers down her spine.

_I thought you didn’t like the awoken_ , she replied, even as she lowered herself to one knee and averted her gaze from the regal presence before her.

“You may stand, survivor.” Even the voice of the Queen was authoritative, requiring the attention of all those in attendance. It was at odds with her posture, slouched as she was in her throne. Yet, nothing about her seemed soft or lax. Every word, every action, was deliberate and purposeful. As if in a trance, the guardian thanked her majesty for her benevolence and grace. 

“Now tell me, how did you manage to live? Everyone at Amethyst was reported dead, as I’m sure you are aware of.” At that, she froze, mouth agape. She had not thought of what she wanted to say to the Queen beforehand, too caught up in the pilot’s idle chatter and the newness of her surroundings. 

“She didn’t.” Materializing at her shoulder, her ghost spoke confidently. For a fraction of a second, the Queen’s brows rose in surprise, before her expression returned to one of cool neutrality. It was then that the guardian noticed the shadow standing at the Queen’s side; it stepped forward stiffly, golden gaze burning into her very soul. If the pale aura of the Queen was light, then this man was the darkness. Something about him felt very, very wrong, a feeling that she doubted she could forget.

“A lightbearer, from one of our own. How very interesting. Do you know who you are?” Delicate, pale fingers steepled together in the Queen’s lap, her back straightening slightly as if this new occurrence was actually worth her attention. Still, she received no response to her question, for the guardian remained shock still.

“Your identification, girl.” Snapped the shadow. Still, she did not know what he spoke of. With a scoff and shake of his head, the man gestured at the pilot who stood a respectful distance behind her, an arm held across his chest. At the wordless command, he strode forward, reaching for her neck. She leaned back as far as she could, fearful at the pilot’s proximity, but the menacing gaze of the shadow rooted her feet to the ground. The message in his yellow eyes was clear; disobey, and you die.

And so she remained in place as the pilot reached behind her head and, as gently as he could, unclasped a chain from around her neck. A small, square tag hung on the end of it, which he scanned with a small device. Once complete, a screen of light sprung up, countless words scrawled across it. From here, it was illegible, but she could make out a portrait of an awoken woman; she had plump lips, skin a pale gray, black hair pulled back into a high ponytail, and glowing eyes the color of cold, cold malachite.

At a nod from the Queen’s shadow, the pilot began to read aloud,

“Marjorle Thiv. Female. Occupation: botanist. Status: deceased, as of the Raze of Amethyst. Cause of death: asphyxiation. Suspected to have been knocked out from a blow to the head from a shrapnel launcher, then later died from being exposed to open space through her ship’s broken windshield.”

_A woman told her to run, to escape, and so she did. Even as she started up the ship, people were torn apart around her and torn away from their loved ones. As she began to lift off, she watched the woman, who must have been important to her from the knot in her chest, be slapped aside by a massive fallen. She didn’t look to see if she survived from the impact, fearful for her own life as she was. The beast turned around. Its beady gaze met hers. It leveled a cannon over its shoulder. The barrel was aimed at her._

As she died in the vision, she awoke in her new life. Little had changed around her, as if the rush of memories had only lasted a few moments in the real world. The shadow was now kneeling by the Queen’s side with his head tilted, appearing to be in deep conversation. At one of his suggestions, her ghost bristled, its spines spread wide, and it glared as best it could with its one eye. Grumbling could be heard through their connection. Its protectiveness was endearing, although not entirely necessary, but it did bring a small smile to her face. She gently patted the top of its shell, and it turned to face her, expression turning apologetic. In reply, she shrugged, and turned back to the throne as the Queen spoke loud enough to hear,

“It would be a waste to keep her to ourselves. No, we’ll send her to the city, as a show of… goodwill. However, we will allow you to remain here to rest for a few days.”

“With all due respect, your grace, we really should report to the city as soon as possible.” Defiant as ever, the ghost turned down the offer of hospitality.

“Of course. We will still allow you a room to… freshen up while a ship is prepared for you.” This time, the Queen’s offer was non negotiable, an edge to her voice signaling that it would be unwise to argue further, so she nodded in agreement.

“Good. Brother dear, would you show our guest to her room?” The shadow inclined his head at his sister’s order, and descended the stairs towards her. As he neared, the _wrongness_ grew stronger. Her ghost moved closer to her side, nearly hiding itself in her hair. Without any acknowledgement, he passed the pair and continued onwards to the grand doors at the exit.

_Brother? So that’s why she keeps him at her side._ With a final glance at the Queen, the guardian and ghost left to follow their dark guide.

—-

“Marjorle Thiv, huh?” The woman staring back at her in the mirror was different from the one in the picture. Most of the hair on the left side of her head was gone in uneven chunks, ugly scars showing through the greasy curtain of black. Even on her good side, her hair was not smooth or glossy like it had appeared before, instead hanging limp and dull, although it was damp from the shower she took. A side effect of death, she supposed.

“If you want, you could have a different name. This is a new life, after all.” Her ghost said, nudging her arm in a supportive gesture.

“No,” she shook her head, water droplets scattering, “I kind of like it, and I don’t mind if I reminds me of where I’m from. But this,” she pointed at the mess on her head, “has got to go.”

“I could fix it. Remove the scars, restore your hair.” She gave it some thought, intently staring at her reflection, before bending and rifling through the many, many drawers. Finally, she found a pair of scissors and shaving razor.

A few cuts, both to her hair and her scalp, later, and the left side of her head was shaved and mostly smooth. Bumps and ridges remained from her shrapnel scars, but she didn’t mind. However, she did let her ghost heal the nicks left behind by the razor and her unskilled hands. 

“Hey Ghost, do you have a name?” She asked as she restrained the rest of her hair in a neat bun and moved closer to the mirror to examine the rest of her appearance. White tattoos marked her face; a long,thin four-pointed star on her nose, curved dashed below and above the inner corners of her eyes, and another star on her chin that lead down her throat. These markings interested her the most, for they hadn’t been recognizable on the picture before, likely due to its small size and the markings’ own subtleness.

“No, but many guardians and ghosts come up with one together.” In the mirror, the green-blue eyes of the awoken met the glowing gaze of the ghost, and she smiled, glad to have such a companion.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll plenty of time on the way to-“

A knock on the door. Shaking her head, she clutched the borrowed bathrobe and walked to the main room. It was extravagant, truly, full of rich purples and soft silk. With her ghost at her side, she opened the door.

There, stood an Eliksni, a violet bundle clutched in its secondary pair of arms. The other two limbs held onto a staff, and that was all she noticed before she shook her head and backed away, wary. Her ghost stood its ground, however, hovering steadfastly between its guardian and the four-armed intruder.

“Ah, you fear because of the Eliksni, yesss? Have no fear, for Variks the Loyal of House Judgement, hates the Eliksni as well.” Variks removed an arm from his staff and gave a little bow, and it was then that she noticed that it was made of bronze-tinted metal instead of flesh and bone, as was the one still holding the staff. 

“Wolves have stolen from both of us, yesss?” His free arm waved again, this time in a beckoning gesture. Warily she moved forward, even as her heart continued to beat faster and faster.

“A gift, from the Queeen.” The previously forgotten bundle was held out to her, and she snatched it from his grasp as quickly as possible before scampering back.

“Here, Variks will wait, to show you to your ship.” With that, the door was closed.

Marjorle slid down the wall, face in her hands. _Of course the Queen would send a Fallen. She knows._ It was too much to hope that her generosity came without a price. No, the Queen knew exactly what she was doing, sending that fallen here to play on her fears.

“It’ll be okay, guardian. We’ll be out of here soon enough. Let’s take a look at this ‘gift’, shall we?” Her ghost nudged her cheek, a comforting friend as always. She nodded, and finally looked at the objects still held in her arms. On a pile of fine plum-colored cloth sat a sidearm, identical to the ones that the guards had at their sides. There was a symbol on its steel gray side; interlocked gold and white teeth surrounded by a golden sun. It was the same symbol that she had seen proudly emblazoned on purple banners throughout the outpost.

As for the rest of the gift, it appeared to be clothing. Very complicated clothing. After staring at it, not knowing where to start, she looked to her ghost for help. It rolled its eye, scanned the attire, and within moments it disappeared from her hands and reappeared on her body.

The main piece consisted of a long plum coat that reached her ankles. It was trimmed with white triangles that, when combined with the few pieces of golden armor, matched the symbol on the sidearm.

Overall, a very clear message: this one may follow your orders, but she belongs to the Reef.

—-

“Hey Ghost?”

They had been flying for a while now, in a purple ship adorned with the Queen’s symbol. Once they had left the reef, her thoughts had wandered, but always returned to her ghost and how glad she was that it was here with her.

“Yes, guardian?”

“I think I’ve come up with a good name for you. How do like Spectre?”

A delighted twirl from the newly-named Spectre was the ghost’s reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re curious: Marjorle is pronounced like Marjorie, but with a different ending. So like Marjorlaine but without the -aine.  
> And Thiv is pronounced like thieves, but without the s.
> 
> For those who may not know: Shortly after Twilight Gap/ the Reef Wars Petra Venj did something that resulted in the death of 9 guardians and ghosts. There was a miscommunication between her and the Vanguard that caused this. As punishment, she was sent to the Last City for a while.  
> The Raze of Amethyst is canon as well.
> 
> As always, criticism and comments are welcome!


	3. Skepticism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, it’s been a while.

 

Andal Brask was known to sit on the rooftops from time to time, and speak to his hunters from whatever vantage point he had chosen. Of course, he stayed in the Vanguard Hall when it was necessary, but he preferred the fresh air and open skies when the action had slowed down.

Today was one of those days. After the Gap, most guardians were fixated on rebuilding. Attention was focused inward, instead of on striking out at their enemies. Still, most of this work was headed by Commander Zavala, not the hunter vanguard. While he did encourage his hunters to help out with the relief efforts, there weren’t any strict regulations on what they could and could not do. Which was how they liked it, anyways.

And so the hunter lounged on a rooftop overlooking the tower’s courtyard with his ghost, Scout, hovering near his shoulder. The pair observed the comings and goings of the guardians below them, occasionally making comments about a titan’s lack of style, or a fancy looking sniper on the back of a warlock. But for the most part it was comfortably silent between the two.

Despite this laid-back attitude, Andal was never truly unaware of his surroundings. He wouldn’t be a hunter otherwise. Every ship that flew by, he saw. Every guardian who transmitted into the courtyard with a smile on their face, whether from a successful mission or at the sight of seeing a friend, he saw.

The plum-colored ship with the mark of the Queen was no exception. At the sight of it, he stiffened. Relations between the Awoken and the City were turbulent, for good reason. Andal couldn’t find it in himself to want to fix it, either. Five of the guardians killed by the Queen’s Emissary were his hunters, damn it. They were good ones, too. So who could blame him when he viewed that ship and its passengers with suspicion?

—-

“I probably should have warned you. It’s kind of bright.”

Her vision was white, and that was all she could see. The sun was so, so bright. Cold winds blew buffeted the violet coat she wore and whipped her bangs across her face. Still, she hardly noticed anything past the stinging in her eyes. Marjorle shot a glare in the general direction of her ghost and brought up a hand to shade her vision, although it did little to help.

“I suppose you reefborn Awoken aren’t quite used to the sun, are ya?” A voice drifted in from somewhere in front of her. All she could see was a hooded figure, haloed by the sun’s light.

“And what would one of the Queen’s envoys be doing all the way out here, hmm?” Asked the hooded man. She could see his posture change as his crossed arms moved to his sides, his right hand staying near his hip.

“She’s a guardian, Andal.” Almost silently, Spectre appeared at her shoulder. Yet again, he had come to her rescue.

Marjorle blinked furiously and managed to make out a few more details of this “Andal”. He was tan and had short black facial hair. His eyes were dark, although she couldn’t tell their exact color. For the most part, the armor he wore was brown and black. A glint of metal at his right hip betrayed the existence of a hand cannon, which he kept a loose grip on.

With his other hand, the man motioned at her as well as the ship behind her, quirking a brow as if to question the Queen’s emblem displayed on both. Understanding clicked in her mind.

“In my past life, I was a citizen of the reef. I died in the Raze of Amethyst. After Spectre revived me I was found by an Awoken pilot, who brought me to the Queen. I don’t know why she helped me, but I owe no allegiance to her.” At this point, her eyes had gotten used to the glaring brightness, and she could clearly see the blatant distrust held in Andal’s brown eyes. A dissatisfied frown was prominent, although it didn’t look quite right, as if he didn’t do a lot of brooding in his time.

“Hmph. Well I suppose I’ll take you to meet the rest of the Vanguard. Follow me.”

—-

It turned out that Andal’s behavior was not unique among his fellow vanguards. Commander Zavala eyed her coldly, and Ikora Rey stood straight-backed, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Can you wield the light?” Zavala was openly wary of her origins. Was his distrust of the reef truly so great that he’d doubt her status as a guardian? As if she would have been able to trick a ghost into following her and playing along. Even the Queen, with her shady motives, had been more welcoming than the Vanguard. It sent a chill down her spine, and only made her want to prove them wrong.

“Why, yes. I can.” With some effort, Marjorle once again summoned the void to her palm. Zavala wasn’t swayed, but Ikora’s gaze softened and the tiniest of smiles graced her features. “But I have not figured out my class.”

“Well that knocks out hunter as a possibility. Nightstalkers are extremely rare, and they usually have a little extra...something,” Andal interjected, “you two can handle this. I’ll be in one of my usual places.” With a gesture, he turned and left. Ikora shook her head with an amused smile and looked back to the new guardian.

“He’ll come around. In the meantime, you must be exhausted. I’ll send room details to your ghost, and in the morning one of my warlocks will come to help you.”

“So soon to claim her, Ikora? We could send Fen-6 instead.” To her surprise, Zavala spoke up. Even though he clearly didn’t like her, he wanted her to be a titan like him. Perhaps it was a sense of awoken familiarity, or maybe it would be easier to could keep a close eye on her then.

“You know as well as I do that he’s too busy working with his fireteam. Besides, he’d tear the poor girl apart.” At that moment, Marjorle decided that Ikora was her favorite of the three vanguards. None of them had been particularly kind to her, but at least the warlock hadn’t been openly hostile.

“Very well. You are dismissed, Marjorle.”

—-

In one word, her room could be described as simple. There was a basic couch on the right, and to her left a door led off to a rather spartan bathroom. On the far wall sat a bland bed, partially hidden by a drab gray screen.

At any other time, Marjorle would complain. Currently, she was too exhausted to do so, and chose to collapse face first into the stiff mattress instead. Weakly, she tugged at her complicated attire and gave a groan.

“Spec, can you help me out here?” Her hand waved in the general direction of her ghost, and with a fond roll of its eye her clothes were transmatted away. She gave a wordless grumble of thanks and snuggled up beneath the thick blanket, trying to get as comfortable as she could in this unagreeable bed. Spectre settled down near her head, and the pair soon fell asleep.

—-

“Hey, wake up!” A grumble.

“Marjorle!” She turned over.

“Come on, you stubborn ass!” A bump to the head, and her eyes opened.

“Why’d ya ake me?” Her voice was muffled by the blanket that currently smothered her face.

“That warlock Ikora mentioned is here. Time to start your training!” Spectre nudged the back of her head again, although it was much gentler this time. With a sigh, Marjorle rolled over onto her back, limbs thrown out from her body as she stretched out and yawned. Annoyingly, her feet hung off the end of the bed. Frowning, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glared at the all too-happy ghost hovering nearby.

“I don’t know how you slept through the doorbell. Really, it’s insane.” Right on time, an annoying buzz assaulted her ears.

“All right, all right. I’m up!” She growled out as she stood from the bed, blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak. Bleary-eyed and blanket-clad, she threw open the door to smiling man. To any other person, he would seem much too tall. Marjorle knew that in her boots, they’d be of equal height. He wore sunny-colored robes accented with brown leather and maroon trim. They were sleeveless, showing off his golden brown muscular arms. Dark dreadlocks were pulled back into a ponytail, and his amber eyes shone with warmth. At the sight of the bedraggled awoken, he burst into laughter. She responded in kind with a glare and a palmful of void. That got him to shut it.

“Calm down there, guardian. Using light in the dormitory isn’t exactly permitted,” He placated, “besides, I can do it better.” With a chuckle, he spread his arms, twin nebulas growing in each hand. They were much larger than her own.

“What’s so funny, then?” Marjorle seethed after his little display was over with.

“Zavala and Andal talked about you like you were some dangerous spy-assassin. Instead I get an awoken wrapped in a blanket and with a bad case of bed head.”

“Who says I couldn’t kill you right now.”

“Even if you did, I’d come right back,” his hands glowed gold, tiny flames licking at his fingertips. “I’m Matthias, by the way. Warlock and jack-of-all-trades, at your service.” Matthias grinned and bowed comedically.

“So you’re the one who’s meant to train me?” Marjorle’s frown eased slightly at the man’s humor. But she was still mad about getting woken up.

“Yep. But I see you’re not quite ready yet. Just meet me in the Vanguard hall in, say, 45 minutes.” With that, he turned and left, leaving her in the doorway with a confused expression.

—-

She found Matthias standing next to a titan of a man in orange and white. Even from a distance, she could hear his loud, booming voice.

“Ah, look who finally decided to join us!” Matthias waved her over, that same perpetual grin on his face. Marjorle glared at him as she approached. Absently, she noted that she was now the same height as him. On the other hand, the unknown man towered over the both of them, which was rather impressive.

“You must be the awoken ‘spy’ that Zavala told me about.” Up front, the titan was even louder. So loud that she nearly flinched from the sudden assault on her ears. Matthias glanced at her in sympathy, with a look that said _you’ll get used to it_.

“So is that what everyone’s decided to refer to me as? Good to know.” Marjorle drawled, derision dripping from every word.

“Oh, I like this one. What do you two need?” At least she had this giant’s approval.

“Well, Shaxx, today we’re going to find out her class. Is Rusted Lands available?”

“Of course. I’m always happy to see guardians using my Crucible.”

—-

“Alright, what’re you packing?”

“... Excuse me?”

Matthias sighed, “do you have any guns? Knives? Weapons?”

“Oh!” Marjorle reached for the sidearm, stamped with the Queen’s sigil, strapped to her hip. Clumsily, she pulled the sleek little gun from its holster and held it out to the warlock. He took it from her hands, bringing it closer to his face as if to examine it. He then abruptly threw it to the side.

“What was that for?” Marjorle questioned, reaching for her only weapon.

“Oh, you won’t be needing that. The only weapon required for today is you and your light.” Matthias shook his head, gently grabbing her shoulder to bring her attention away from the forlorn sidearm. She frowned, but focused on him anyways.

“Good, good,” he waved a hand, and a rifle appeared in his grasp.

“Wait, why do you get a gun? That’s a little unfair.” She crossed her arms defiantly.

“Because I already know how to use my light.” He held out a hand away from his body, and sparks arced across his bare arm. A flashy display, but it got the point across. Matthias’s use of the light was strong and instinctual, while Marjorle had to focus intensely in order to summon even the smallest speck of void. Begrudgingly, she accepted his terms with a simple nod.

“Now, I’m just going to go over here,” he backed up several paces, towards an old rusted truck and several shipping containers. Matthias moved past those until his boots splashed in shallow water, and then moved some more. Once situated, he raised his rifle into the air to signal that he was about to begin.

Matthias then aimed directly at her.

“Spectre, what’s he doing?” There was no reply from her ghost. Nervously, she took a step back and quickly glanced at her surroundings. Behind her was a dilapidated old stonework building with most of its walls collapsed. To her right was a relatively open area, and far to her left was another ancient stone wall.

Marjorle didn’t get to make a choice. Bullets sprang from Matthias’s rifle and sprayed around her. One clipped her right forearm. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. Wide eyes frantically searched. Behind her, behind her was the best cover. Instinct kicked in. The blink of an eye, a whoosh of air, and she moved.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” She collapsed on the second floor of the building that _had_ been behind her, but was now beneath her feet. More shots rang out, and she desperately scrambled to hide behind the half-wall on her left. Her hands shook as she curled in on herself. _Is this where I die?_

Another bullet flew past her cover, this one accompanied by a much louder, much more intimidating sound. A different gun, then. Here she was, with nothing, while her opponent had at least two weapons at his disposal.

“ _No, you have your light. You are a weapon as much as his sniper is.”_ From their link, Spectre encouraged her, his voice gentle and supportive. Just like he has been when she was resurrected. Steeling herself, Marjorle took a deep breath and looked inward once again. This time, the pool of light inside of her was much, much bigger, so much that it nearly overflowed.

“Come on out, Marjorle! I’ve got something to show you!” Matthias taunted. While she had been busy panicking, he had moved closer. A burst of heat from the other side of the wall betrayed just how close he had gotten. Flames licked over the top of the wall, and she knew it was now or never.

Marjorle reached into the well of inner light, pulling power from its expansive supply. An indigo glow grew in both of her hands, and she brought them together as she continued to pull and the void continued to grow. She sucked in a breath and moved from behind the wall. From her arms she threw the mass of void energy at Matthias. She released her breath. Marjorle retreated back to her cover, knowing that whatever she had just done wouldn’t be enough to stop the warlock. She closed her eyes as the void bomb hit its mark and exploded with a blast of empty air.

Afterwards, there was silence. Cautiously, Marjorie peered from behind the wall to see what she had wrought.

Where Matthias had once stood, there was nothing but dead ground and a glow of orange light. He was gone. She had killed him. And she froze.

Cold regret clutched at her heart. She had killed him. Yes, he had been trying to do the same to her. But that didn’t make it any easier. Even worse than before, her hands trembled, and she bit her lip to point of blood.

Slowly, she recovered enough to move from her hiding place. Marjorle dropped down from the building, nearly crumbling to the ground. Her heart hammered in her chest as she approached the site of Matthias’s death. As she got closer, she realized that the orange glow hovering in the air was his ghost. Pieces of its shell were suspended in the midst of the solar light, and its white eye stared at her blankly. It pained her to look at. She had taken its guardian away, and even though she had only known her own ghost for a short while, she knew it had to hurt.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Marjorle dropped to her knees in front of the silver-cream ghost, her head bowed. She couldn’t bear to look the ghost in its eye and see the agony that surely must be there. Yet, there were no accusations, nor verbal reprimands for her carelessness— only the soft warm glow that was cast on the ground. Confused, she finally raised her head to look at the ghost. It was still in pieces, but there was no anger in its eye. Her brows knit in contemplation. How was it so calm and collected, when she had just murdered its guardian?

And then there was light. Marjorle was blinded by the unexpected flash. She barely managed to make out Matthias’s figure, wreathed in bright flames, before a hand thrust through her chest and gripped her heart in burning agony. The world went dark.

She could see, yet she could not see. The images were clear, but they were not viewed through her own eyes. What she saw was this; herself, dead on the ground, chestplate damaged and her chest torn open. Above her body, Spectre, with his shell opened wide, hovered in a swirl of orchid light. Matthias stood nearby, no longer burning and looking no worse for wear. He held out a hand and summoned his ghost, which flew over to Spectre, light emanating from its core. The image blurred, and she woke with a startled gasp.

Marjorle, filled with anger, leapt to her feet. A hand curled into Matthias’s collar, wrenching him off the ground.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Her other hand formed into a fist, and without thought she summoned the void to that arm and pulled it back to punch him in the face.

“Whoa whoa, calm down there, warlock.” Matthias didn’t look scared, even though he had every right to be. He grabbed her fist in his own solar-coated one. This time, the warmth was soothing and gentle, not blazing and destructive. She loosened her grip on his robes, allowing him to drop back to solid ground. Blankly, she looked at her other hand, engulfed by his. The warmth of his sun calmed the void with its soothing heat, and she retracted that hand too. Matthias gave her an encouraging smile, and she fell to her knees, feeling ashamed of herself.

“Did your ghost forget to tell you that guardians are practically immortal? Death is normal for us.” He spoke softly and crouched in front of her, gently resting a large hand on her shoulder.

“Immortal?” Marjorle’s voice was quiet and wavered with uncertainty. Just a touch, she lifted her head, cold green green eyes staring into Matthias’s sunny amber ones.

“As long as we have our ghosts and our light, we will always come back.” She nodded soberly, and thought back on what had transpired. It made sense, why it had been so easy for him to try to kill her, and why his ghost hadn’t reacted to his death. That explained what happened to her, as well. She had died, and Matthias had shared his light with Spectre to bring her back. As thanks, she had tried to kill him for it. Void, she was an idiot. At least he had managed to talk her down.

“Wait… did you say ‘warlock’?” She had been too preoccupied with her own turbulent to emotions to realize it, but now looking back she had caught what he said.

“Yep. Did you not notice that you threw a Nova Bomb? It wasn’t too bad, even though it was pretty basic in form,” he grinned, “but man, it was strong! I can still feel the void tearing me apart!” He shook his head with a chuckle.

“Point is, you did well. Congratulations, warlock.”

“Thank you, Matthias.” Marjorle gave him a small smile.

“No problem, kid. Now, let’s go get you some proper gear, shall we?” He stood, extending a large hand towards her to help her up.

—-

Turns out, having a morning breakdown can give you a big appetite. When they returned to the tower, Marjorle’s stomach growled, much to Matthias’s amusement. He chuckled and took her down to a food stand in the city. There they served steaming bowls of noodles, called ramen.

It was delicious.

From there, he gave her a quick tour. The city was loud and bustling with people, but Matthias seemed right at home among the crowds. He greeted store vendors with a wave and smiled at the children in the streets. Marjorle didn’t feel the same. For her, everything was too loud, too wild. People crowded in on all sides, most either ignoring her or glaring at her with distaste. Even the civilians didn’t trust her, it seemed. Despite Matthias’s comforting presence at her side, she didn’t feel welcome. Besides Zavala, she hadn’t seen any other awoken since she left the reef. It truly seemed like she was alone here.

“Hey, are you doing alright?” Matthias asked quietly, steering her off the main road and into a quiet side street.

“Yeah, it’s just a little overwhelming,” she nervously brought a hand to the back of her head, “there’s a lot of people here.”

“It’s been a big day. How’s about we go back to the tower, get you a bond?”

“What’s a bond?”

Matthias sighed with a small fond smile, and motioned to the brown leather band on his left bicep. It was fairly simple, with maroon trim and small white feathers hanging from short cords. “This is a bond. It signifies that we’re Warlocks.”

“What about hunters? And titans? Do they have bonds?” Marjorle eyed the band curiously.

“Hunters have cloaks, like Andal. They’re real proud of ‘em. Titans have marks, which are the sashes on their waists,” he explained, “the rest of us call them butt towels. Don’t tell Zavala.” This last part was whispered quietly, mischief shining in his eyes. Marjorle grinned in response, nodding solemnly, as if this little tidbit of information was the most important thing in the world.

“Are there are any other Warlock secrets I should know about?”

“Well, you see…”

The two warlocks became lost in conversation, earnestly discussing the puzzles of their kind. What they didn’t notice however, was the one-eyed Awoken woman watching Marjorle with rapt attention.  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait. What with Forsaken coming out (I’m absolutely loving the bows and nova warp, by the way) and school starting back up, I’ve been busy. More importantly, I hadn’t really been in a writing mood until this week.
> 
> Also, Marjorle’s story isn’t finished yet! I have another three chapter work planned out, and after that I’ll get to introduce another member of her fireteam.
> 
> Speaking of fireteams, I’ve made a tumblr specifically for destiny and Marjorle/ her fireteam! Hopefully I’ll upload some drawings soon, and I’d love to answer any questions you might have!  
> fireteamshipwreck.tumblr.com
> 
> And as a final note, I’d like to say that I do not have Andal or Zavala. Quite the opposite, in fact. I just believe their distrust makes sense with how I’m characterizing them. They do get better about this, though.
> 
> As always, questions or comments are greatly appreciated!


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